As I sit in my writing seat, with an almost fifty year old’s body aching all over with an ever growing list of physical unpleasantries, I can not really hear the birds chatter this morning. Or anything else, as this fifty year old arse stood in the front row at the Paradise Rock Club last night. My ears are blown, and very likely my phone mic is too. It was a great concert by the core duo of the group Bauhaus. I am not ashamed to say I lived for their music in the 80’s and am not sure I would have ended up being an artist if it wasn’t for the aesthetic explorations that the band inspired. When I was about sixteen I saw this trio as Tones on Tail, and within the week had acquired my first bass guitar. I have vivid memories of sitting in the backseat of my friend’s car as we excitedly drove into the show at the Channel in Boston, all those years ago. And can even remember parts of the concert and what the band wore, this many years later. So monumentally inspiring.

The bass I got that week was a big, clunky wood tone Fender Squire, later to be replaced by a more gently shaped Fender Jazz, which I still have. It was autographed by Bauhaus bass player David J in the late 80’s and remains a personal treasure. I remember hauling the heavy Squire bass into my parent’s living room (where the stereo was located) and putting on Tones on Tail’s album POP, and playing the simple song “Happiness” over and over until I had it down. My poor parents! God they were so tolerant of my musical phase. My dad affectionately called my musical dirges and experiments up in my room “The Concert,” but in retrospect I know it was anything but. Bless them and their patience.

The amazing part was that I could actually do it. Create sound. It felt visual -- I could “see” the heavy basslines as they wove and contorted with the other instruments. As I practiced my hands got more used to the instrument and while I was NEVER a very GOOD bass player, I could pull off enough to make original music. We all could. It was the 80’s. It was about ART. It was about coaxing sounds from your instrument that made your music different from everyone else's -- distortion, flange, delay pedals on a bass...really? YES. I recently read an article about Daniel Ash (the guitarist that played last night) and learned that he was not a “trained” musician himself, that he built his unique style from the ground up, learning and growing as he went. Discovering completely original sounds on his guitars and writing with them. Creativity at its finest.

Last night was classic emotional time travel. As soon as the band hit the stage I was slapped with the thought -- “They look so..so...OLD!” followed quickly by the thought of my own age. But I am still that sixteen year old kid, aren’t I? As the opening slow and jazzy drum beats of “Happiness” started to roll, I went back in time to my living room, holding the fragrantly overly polished guitar in my unaccustomed hands, feeling the notes vibrate down the heavy, rope-like strings. Wait...is it 1983 again? 85? 91? That’s about when this group stopped touring. Until last night.

I think back to that kid who at sixteen had no idea of what was to come out of this thing called life, yet in my head and heart I knew that art mattered. I had no plans for college, for teaching, for anything, really. Just waitressing, playing music, drawing and stitching, and surviving a home environment that while supportive of my creative ambitions was emotionally very, very difficult to endure. My headphones and albums got me through it all. Amazing, really, at how things fell into place for me and I am eternally awestruck and grateful for such a good life now.

Last night’s show contained multiple flashback songs of my life played with such precision and beauty that I admit to getting a little teary at times. “Slice of Life,” a Bauhaus classic, transported me back to those days, with its delicate twelve string acoustic progressions saying more than lyrics ever could. Music about the uncertainty of life, made certain through music. In a nutshell. “GO!” about getting out of your own head and thriving without self-imposed hold-backs. Hits from various post-Bauhaus configurations and interesting covers sprinkled throughout -- “Ball of Confusion,” “Heartbreak Hotel,” even (of all things) Adam Ant’s “Physical,” so many songs, so many memories.

What a great show to see as I hit the mid-century mark. Bookends to a creative journey. I do not think that this group will tour that much more in the future, and am so happy they came by Boston last night. The night was made even more special by meeting up with Walter Newell, who was the drummer in our group back “in the day.” Very special night, very special music, very special memories. Now if only I could get my hearing back and find out what my birds are asking for this morning...

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Amy Ropple is an artist and art educator who believes engaging in visual art can make life happier and more meaningful. This blog is a daily journal of creative habits and interests, as well as reflections on living with chronic autoimmune disease. Website: http://amyropple.com